I continue to set new records in how long-overdue something can be. Nevertheless, I refuse to let this summery meditation slip away.
I have written already at length about my internship. This can, for the most part, take the place of the usual section on academics. Too much time has passed for me to recall any other projects I pursued that might be grouped in with my work to some alternative “productivity” category. I met with Adam Nash? But that wasn’t really work. It’s hard to say.
I lived in two apartments. The first was in the Marina: it had a little backyard that was wonderful to sit in, and heated floors in the bathroom that made walking around in the early mornings significantly more pleasant. The second was in Cow Hollow: it was masterfully decorated, had the most excellent kitchen I’ve ever lived with, and was situated literally one block from Union Street. I think I’ve come to witness, within my lifetime, the fall of Union Street and the rise of Chestnut, and now the rebirth of Union as Chestnut grows stale. Which is to say that though both were lovely, the latter apartment was a far more lively neighborhood.
Living somewhere, for the first time, on my own and with a kitchen, I was able to participate in perhaps my favorite tradition: Shabbat. I hosted about seven in all, dashing out of work early on Fridays to the grocery store and then to the stove to throw together the week’s menu by the time the guests would arrive. I had high-minded and silly inspirations in mind while throwing them, and they largely lived up to those expectations. I placed an inordinate amount of weight on and thus care toward crafting cover images and descriptions for each Partiful invitation. And I was honored that people came! To have had you eat of my food and drink of my drink and be together in one place, laughing late into the evening, was the greatest reward and made me quite happy. I am also particularly fond of one story, in which Zach arrived an hour late—he drove up from Stanford—and came through the door to hear, “You’re just in time! We’re bringing out the food now. Come sit!” I was not always the most punctual.
I also got away ever so briefly to New York, Oregon, and Mexico. I spent the first running around seeing everyone who was available—which meant quite a few people, given that Stanford basically splits in two between San Francisco and New York for the summer. In Oregon I lived in lakes and rivers, which was great because it might be impossible to have a bad time in the water. In Mexico, I had costras de queso for the first time, which was a life-changing experience I can highly recommend. The ant larvae at La Gruta were a life-changing experience I am less enthusiastic about.
Of course, people were the most influential in making my summer wonderful. My whole family came to every Shabbat, baking the challot and creating amusing Partiful personas. Daniel and Emily were on the couch of my apartment waiting for me when I came back from my first day of real work ever. Daniel also hosted me in New York—the city where we first became friends—which was extraordinarily kind. Davita, Hasan, and Zach were the most consistent Shabbat attendees and thus gave shape to the most influential institution of those months. Odin crashed on my couch for ten days during the one period in which I was working remote and proceeded to induce The Most Fun and get me on creatine. Kelly and Joven I will thank for foolishly jumping on a plane with me time and time again, and Longhair for hosting us (and calmly weathering anaphylaxis). Trun for our meal at Lavash. Vivek and Nate for tolerating my god-awful tennis. Sophia for her rooftop DJ set, and Jordan and her mother for a great Effy’s brunch. Guy the locksmith for his locksmithing, though he will never ever read this post.
Now I will immediately begin writing the next reflection, so that I can hopefully have it done before I return from winter break. If I’m lucky.
Great revelry awaits!